Team RCHR
by War292004
Summary: The Vytal Festival is in full swing, but behind the scenes, things are far from perfect. With the threat of intrigue by unknown perpetrators, terrorism by the White Fang, and the ever-growing terror of the Grimm weighing over them, Dr. Ozpin calls in a little help... from ISIS (the spy company). [WARNING: Significant RWBY Season 3 Spoilers; read at your own peril. Or whatever.]
1. Chapter 1

**Please Note:**

The following story contains massive spoilers for Season 3 of RWBY. If you have not caught up, you have only yourself to blame if you get spoiled. Now, sit back, relax, and enjoy the adventures of the characters of "Archer" and "RWBY" in…

 **TEAM RCHR**

Chapter 1

The azure sky and puffy, white clouds surrounded the solitary air ship as it flew lazily through the air. On the horizon, a plethora of other flying ships hovered above the city of Vale, Beacon Academy, and beside the floating Amity Colosseum. Inside the air ship, the members of ISIS sat, passing the time until arrival. Some were handling it better than others.

"Ughhhhh this is taking foreverrrrrrrr," groaned Cheryl Tunt. "Are we there yet?"

"For the sixtieth time, Cheryl, No!" snapped Malory Archer. "If you ask again, I'm docking 5% of your pay."

"But this stupid flying boat is stupid slow! Couldn't we have taken a real plane?" moaned Cheryl, sliding half off her seat and on to the floor.

"I'm pretty sure this place doesn't even have real planes," added Pam Poovey, as she gorged herself on the complimentary snacks provided for the group.

"Don't you have some glue you should be swallowing?" asked Ray Gillette, as he paged absently through a magazine of Faunus models.

"I ran out like 3 hours ago, but thanks for reminding me," hissed Cheryl.

"You know, you could all be reviewing our intel," Lane Kane pointed out, as she sat away from the group, paging through a mountain of documents with Cyril Figgis. "ISIS has never worked with any of these kingdoms; this is a huge undertaking."

"Yeah, Remnant isn't anything like… well, anything we know," said Cyril. "I'm… honestly, a little foggy on how we even got here in the first place?"

"I wouldn't think about it," chimed in Dr. Algernop Krieger. He was sitting opposite, reading another magazine on weaponry of the world of Remnant. "Seriously. Pretty sure it'll give you an aneurysm."

"It doesn't matter anyway," said Malory, taking a sip of her gin and tonic. "Money is money, and ISIS could potentially be settling into a lucrative agreement with the Atlas military. I won't have you all cocking this up!"

The ship lurched violently downward. Everyone yelled and grabbed for something to hold onto. Cheryl screamed loudly and continuously, her screams becoming hysterical laughter quickly after. Pam slapped her. Malory, now wearing half of her cocktail, groan-sighed.

"Will someone _please_ go to the cockpit and find out what the hell that was about?" she asked.

"Three guesses," said Lana. "C'mon, Cyril, let's go get him."

Lana and Cyril left the small passenger compartment and travelled up the narrow walkway to the cockpit area. They could hear the sounds of struggle well before they reached the door. Predominantly, swearing and threats of violence. Lana and Cyril exchanged a look, rolled their eyes, and pressed the door button.

The cockpit door slid open, and, sure enough, they found Sterling Archer standing near the wheel. Four crew members had to hold him back, as he thrashed drunkenly at the controls, a bottle of whiskey in one hand.

"I wanna fly the boat!" yelled Archer, shoving one of the crew members off.

"Will someone PLEASE subdue him?!" snarled the captain of the thing.

"His aura hasn't been activated yet; we could kill him!" protested a crewmember.

Archer laughed. "My aura? What is this… uh… Miss Cleo's Ship of… Astrolo… damn it, I had something for this!"

"Archer!" snarled Lana. "Can we _please_ get through one mission without you trying to kill us?!"

"Lana!" cried Archer. "Tell these dicks to let me fly!"

"Archer, how drunk are you?" asked Cyril.

"By what measurement? 'Cuz like… I'd probably literally destroy a breathalyzer if I took one right now," said Archer, taking another swig from his bottle for good measure.

"How did you even _get_ alcohol? This is a dry ship!" exclaimed the captain.

"It's this new thing called, 'I brought it from home'?" said Archer, smirking at the captain. "Seriously, the security for this is extremely concerning. You don't even have TSA."

Lana sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Captain, I am so sorry. I'll be taking him back to the compartment now; we'll be sure to leave you alone."

"Good. We will be arriving within the hour," said the captain.

Lana walked over to Archer, who finally stopped struggling. He offered her the bottle, with a sloppy grin. She grabbed his shoulder, and gave it a firm squeeze. Archer went to his knees almost immediately, dropping the bottle in the process.

"Ow, ow, OW, LANA!" Archer said. "You're hurting me!"

"Good. We're even, then," said Lana. "Your mother wants to brief us before we land, and since I know you didn't bother reading the intel, you might actually want to listen for once."

"When have I _ever_ wanted to listen to intel, Lana?" asked Archer.

Back in the main cabin area, the ISIS team sat in front of one of the windows, which was displaying a prepared message about the Vyvtal Festival and the Tournament that went along with it. As usual, half the group wasn't paying attention.

"During the tournament, Huntsmen and Huntresses in training enter into combat, to test each other's talents, hone their skills, and win glory for their Academy and Kingdom," the narrator explained. Scenes of battle from current and past Vytal Festival Tournaments, including the RWBY/ABRN fight.

"What is this, some sort of crazy Hunger Games?" asked Archer.

"No, Archer, this is their training," said Cyril. "They are training to fight the Grimm, along with-."

Archer laughed. "The Grimm? We're basically going to train Little Red Riding Hood to survive her own fairy tale? We're used to fighting _real_ villains: drug runners, terrorists—."

"Funny you should mention that," said Lana. "There are terrorists here. The White Fang is a group made up predominantly of Faunus, and their goal is—."

Archer laughed harder, nearly doubled over in his utter glee. "Wait, wait, did you say _Faunus?_ Mother, is this some kind of joke?"

Malory stared at him. "Sterling, when have you ever known me to play jokes?"

"Well, actually—,"

"She's serious, Archer. Faunus are part-animal humans, or humans with animal—," Cyril tried to explain.

"God, these Millennials and their PC-friendly words. How about we just call them 'furries' like everyone else?" Archer argued.

"Ugh. I don't trust them. Their scaley skin and their… horny… horns…" muttered Cheryl, glaring at Ray's magazine.

"Wait, so, what do they need us for?" wondered Pam.

Malory drained her glass. "It's none of your concern, Pam, but I've had just enough gin to stop caring. We've been enlisted by one Professor Ozpin to perform a wide variety of jobs, including espionage, protection, and, if need be, apprehension of a small criminal organization who is posing a threat to Beacon Academy, and therefore the stability of the entire region."

"Okay, but… what are we protecting?" pressed Pam.

"The intel didn't say," said Ray. "Just says we're gonna get told when we get here. Something about utmost secrecy."

"Damn," said Pam, snapping her fingers in frustration.

The intercom above them buzzed. "We'll be arriving shortly. Please take your seats for landing."

"Finally!" exclaimed Cheryl. "I was about to die of boredom."

"At least this isn't as slow as that stupid blimp we had to fly that one time," said Pam.

"Can we not bring that up? We're still facing sanctions from Wales over that whole fiasco," said Cyril.

"And what a loss that is," said Malory, sarcastically.

The airship finally landed at the crowded docks on the cliff's edge by Beacon. With it being midday, a majority of the campus was in the colosseum, but the fairgrounds were still fairly busy with lunch-goers. The ISIS agents left the airship, each carrying at least two of Malory's bags. They took in the surroundings, most predominately the tall turrets of Beacon Academy, topped with the Emerald tower reaching high above all the others.

Standing at the edge of the dock, they found Professor Ozpin, and what they could only assume was his blonde assistant. Ozpin gave them a warm smile, though the blonde assistant regarded them coldly as they approached.

"You all must be from ISIS. I do hope you enjoyed your voyage here; I'm sure it was along one," said Ozpin.

"It took crazy long, and it was crazy boring, but—," Cheryl began. Pam elbowed her in the ribs. "Ow! What the shit, Pam?!"

"Ignore her. The Help can be quite irksome to deal with," said Malory. She looked at the blonde. "I'm sure you understand."

The blonde visibly blanched at this, her emerald eyes shining with indignation. "I am _not_ the Help, ma'am. My name is Glynda Goodwitch; I'm a Professor at Beacon."

Ray cackled with laughter. "And let me guess, your best friend is named Elphie?" Everyone stared at him, until his laughter died down. "Wait, really? No one?"

"Ignore him as well," said Malory, turning to the group. "In fact, all of you shut up until we reach Professor Ozpin's office."

Ozpin chuckled. "You seem like a lively bunch. Though, it does appear you have… quite a staggering amount of luggage. Perhaps I should let you see to your lodgings first?"

"Nonsense, dear, we must begin our investigations at once," said Malory, taking Ozpin by the arm and allowing him to lead her away. "Lead on."

Malory and Ozpin walked away, leaving the others to struggle under the weight of their combined luggage. Their boss ignored the groans and moans of protest from the ISIS agents.

"She always does this," said Lana. "Every time."

"I don't wanna hear it," said Pam, who was balancing a dozen bags on her arms and back. "I'm sick of being treated like a pack mule."

"Hey, this nick was always here, right?" said Krieger, looking at one of the bags he was carrying.

"That better not be talking I hear!" yelled Malory, from up in front of them.

The other ISIS agents fell silent. Glynda sighed and held her head in her hand. She pulled her riding crop out and spun it at the ISIS agents, who all watched bemusedly. Then, suddenly, every single piece of Malory's luggage and equipment they'd been carrying floated into the air, meeting at the center in a solid mass of red-and-black. The ISIS agents stared open-mouthed at her.

"Holy. Shit. Snacks," was all Pam could manage.

"She's literally a witch," whispered Ray. "Dukes…"

"Jeezy-petes!" Cyril exclaimed. "How… what… but…"

"So, uh… there's… there's an explanation for this, right?" stuttered a stunned Lana.

"It's just my semblance," said Glynda. "Please, follow me."

She turned to follow Oz and Malory, the mass of luggage floating along behind her. The others, still stunned at the display. Archer produced another bottle, and took a swig.

"Archer, _why_ are you still drinking?" complained Lana.

"Well, Lana, a woman who reminds me far too strikingly of a particularly traumatizing boarding school custodian just levitated my Mother's collective 700 pounds of luggage into the air as if it were nothing. I don't know what's about to go down, but I sure as hell know I can't face it sober," said Archer, after finishing the pull. He offered the bottle out to the others. "Anyone else want in on this?"

There was a pause, and then the others all rushed forward to take a drink. The bottle was empty in 30 seconds.

After entering Beacon Academy and riding the elevator to the very tallest tower, the ISIS agents emerged into a sparsely-decorated office. Directly above them, through green-tinted glass, a giant clockwork of cogs spun. The window, engraved with a clock, gave uninterrupted views of the surrounding area. A mechanically-themed desk by the window, along with several other small tables and chairs, were all the only furniture there was. Malory was already sitting behind the desk, freshly cocktailed, as Ozpin stood next to her, making small talk. Glynda set the luggage carefully into one corner, before crossing to stand next to Ozpin.

"Good of you to finally arrive. Professor Ozpin and I were just speaking about his beautiful school and tower," Malory simpered. "Professor Ozpin, I'm delighted to introduce you to the multi-talented field agents of ISIS."

"Really, Mother? Agents, this time, and not the help?" said Archer.

"Can it," hissed Malory. She turned back to Ozpin, smiling widely again. "Professor—oh, pardon me, it is _Doctor_ isn't it—excuse me: I believe you said you would explain the details of our mission upon our arrival. We are all ears."

"Thank you for your timely arrival. Security is already heightened at Beacon due to the Vytal Festival and Tournament, but there are other dangers present," said Ozpin. "However, we are currently awaiting the arrival of our… let's just call him our own personal intelligence agent."

Glynda cut her eyes to Ozpin at that, something the ISIS field agents noticed immediately. Lana, Archer, and Ray exchanged looks, but didn't say anything.

"I see. Well, if you insist on waiting, I suppose I can't stop you," said Malory, shrugging. "Perhaps we should retire until you—."

"However, there are basic things you all need to know if you are to be of use to us. Have any of you been briefed on auras, semblances, and our styles of weaponry?" asked Ozpin.

"There was some mention of it in the intel you sent us, but the explanations were a little… vague," said Cyril.

"Those douchebags on the airship said something about my aura, and how it wasn't like… turned on?" said Archer. "Phrasing."

"And didn't you say something about a semblance when you took the bags earlier, witch-lady?" asked Pam.

"Indeed I did," said Glynda. "First thing's first, though. We will need to release your auras."

Glynda walked to Archer, standing directly in front of him. Archer's muscles stiffened, and he actually withdrew from her slightly.

"Uh, y-yeah, can I, uh, help you?" he stammered.

"If you would all join hands, please, I will unlock your aura," said Glynda.

The ISIS agents stared at each other, bemused. One by one, they stood up and joined hands. They looked at Malory who remained seated.

"I'm not getting up," she said.

The group sighed and readjusted so that Malory could be included in the group. Once they were ready, Glynda stood in front of Archer again, and he gulped as she gently placed one hand on the side of his face, and the other over his heart.

"Relax, and close your eyes. All of you," she said, her voice softening.

The ISIS agents did as they were told, though at times one or another would squint and peak out, trying to see the others. Glynda closed her eyes as well, and a white light rose off of her, and a quiet ringing sound filled the room.

"What the hell?" asked Archer. "Is my tinnitus acting up again?"

"Shh, relax. Listen to my voice," said Glynda. "For it is in passing that achieve immortality, through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all. Infinite and distance and unbound by death, I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect thee."

The light surrounded the ISIS agents, and each gasped in shock, pleasure, or fear as the feeling washed over them. When it was done, they broke apart, feeling their own bodies, and staring at each other.

"Your aura is a power that protects you, waylaying harm and boosting your own abilities. It is a vital component in our continued efforts against the Grimm. All of us have an aura, and through training, we can utilize it to perform great feats," said Ozpin.

"So when you say protect, what do you mean? Is it like a shield of some variety?" asked Krieger, as he poked at a very-annoyed-looking Ray.

"Yes. When you suffer harm, your aura can absorb the damage your body would have otherwise suffered, until it has been depleted. This can leave you vulnerable," said Glynda.

"Oh, so it's like Hit Points in a video game. Got it," said Krieger.

"I… suppose you could look at it that—"

 **BAM!**

"AUGH!" cried Cyril, knocked off his feet and on his back.

The other agents hit the floor as well, screaming and cursing. All except Archer, who stood above them, his gun still smoking, laughing near hysterically.

"Hahaha Cyril! You should have seen the look on your face! Bahahaha!" Archer doubled over with laughter again.

"What the actual SHIT Archer?!" snarled Lana. "You shot him?!"

"I-I I j-just had to t-test his aw-aura," said Archer, in between his laughter. "Cyril! You dead, buddy?"

"N-no, just in a fair bit of pain," said Cyril, pulling himself to his knees and feeling his chest.

"Sterling!" chastised Malory. "Put that away!"

"Mother, don't you realize what this means?" asked Archer, excitedly. "We're _invincible!_ Bullets can't stop us!"

"Technically, they can, but only after your aura is depleted," said Ozpin. Glynda stood protectively in front of him, her riding crop pointed at Archer.

"See? Look, it's awesome!" said Archer.

He turned and shot Pam directly in the face.

"OW! Asshole," said Pam, holding her nose. "I feel like I just got kicked by a stallion."

"ENOUGH, Archer!" Lana snarled, pulling out her guns.

Archer turned the gun on her. "Lana, don't do it. I'll actually shoot you this time."

"Drop your weapon!" Cyril hissed, pulling his gun out and aiming at Archer, though shakily.

"WOO Mexican Standoff!" shouted Cheryl, ripping Ray's gun out of his holster and pointing it wildly at the others.

Glynda waved her riding crop at them, and the ISIS agents' guns were ripped out of their hands, hovering out of reach near the emerald ceiling.

"Aww," complained Cheryl.

"That. Will. Be. Enough," said Glynda, her voice chilled like a tundra. "I think it's best you all take time to cool off. Dr. Ozpin?"

The Headmaster sighed and shook his head. "I fear Glynda may be correct. Perhaps you could all take the rest of the day to explore Vale and Beacon? I will send for you when the rest of our comrades arrive. Until then, please try and keep a low profile."

"That means no shooting each other!" Malory chastised her agents. "I mean it, Sterling; I don't care how invincible you feel."

"Yeah, Archer. God, been here five seconds, and you're already blowing our cover…" grumbled Ray, snatching his gun out of the air before Cheryl could grab it again.

"Can we get something to eat? I'm starving," complained Pam.

"What else is new?" grumbled Malory. "As long as you stay in town, and don't cause trouble, I literally couldn't care less what you do."

Ozpin, Glynda, and the ISIS staff left the office, rode back to the ground, and took a quick ride to one of the nicest hotels in all of Vale. Once they were settled in their rooms (thanks to a few flicks of Glynda's riding crop [twice to unpack everyones' bags and once to crack Archer over the wrist for trying to steal some of his mother's liquor]), Ozpin and Glynda left the ISIS folks in the hotel lobby.

"Well, as far as first impressions go, I have to say that was probably one of our better examples," said Cyril.

"Sadly, yes," said Malory. "I need a drink."

"You and me both," said Ray. "What's the next step?"

"Reconnaissance, obviously," said Archer. "We gotta get a feel for the town, its people, strategic points, routes in and out…"

"Ooh! I'll go check out the festival; that's probably a big target for any terrorism, right? So, I can totally look for, like, all the holes in security and… stuff," said Pam, too excitedly.

"Oh honey, please, don't act like you're not planning to stuff your face with every exotic food you can get your grubby little paws on," said Ray.

"Well, I assume we'll have international per diem on this trip, so…" said Pam, shrugging and smiling.

"Guess again, Missy. You're HR, not a field agent. I know the contract I signed, and that wasn't in it!" snapped Malory.

"Damn it," said Pam, snapping her fingers.

"Whatever, I'll go with Pam because I… honestly, I just don't want to do anything, and you guys are probably gonna be all, 'Let's canvass the entire city,'" said Cheryl.

"Fine. Ray and I will take the Docks and Warehouse District," said Lana. "Archer, and you and Cyril go—."

"Wait, Archer and me? Why can't Krieger go with him?" asked Cyril.

"Because Dr. Krieger has… other projects for me to do," said Malory.

"Eurgh. Really hope this one doesn't involve unconscious teenagers hooked into experimental machines," said Lana.

"Wha—that was _one time!_ " Krieger snapped, indignantly. "And she survived… mostly!"

"W-well, why can't I go with you, then?" asked Cyril.

"Because once we're done, this hooker is taking me to dinner and buying me some nice undies," said Ray. "Mini-vaca, bitch!"

"C'mon, buddy," said Archer, throwing an arm roughly around Cyril's neck. "What've you got to be afraid of? We're _invincible_ now, and think of all the crazy shit we've survived before we even had that going for us!"

"I… I guess you're right," said Cyril, laughing nervously. As the groups split up, he allowed Archer to drag him down the road, basically by his neck. "After all, how bad can one night out be?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Note:**

Damn it, I wanted to have this out literally two weeks ago, but I only could ever get enough time to write like 2-3 paragraphs at a time. I hope it was worth the wait; I wanted to take it to (timeline in RWBY-wise) all the way to the end of Season 3 Episode 3, but it was already running long. Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 2

The downtown area was, predictably, crowded with Hunters and Huntresses, as well as the ones who had come in to see the fights. Cyril struggled to follow Archer as he plowed through the crowd, ogling the sites and the people. This was especially true of the Faunus, as Archer would loudly debate with Cyril about what animal hybrid they were. It caused no shortage of rage-filled looks, and Cyril found himself wishing he had just gone to help Krieger after all.

"Shouldn't we be, I don't know, looking for clues on the terrorism or, uh, the people?" asked Cyril, as a rabbit-eared girl carrying a camera fled from Archer's comments, blushing furiously.

"Duh, Cyril, we gotta get a layout of the area first!" exclaimed Archer, taking a swig from the bottle he was carrying.

"Do they even allow open containers in this town?" asked Cyril.

Archer held up his finger and drained the rest of the liquor. "What's it matter? We've got diplomatic immunity, don't we?! Plus, again, we have our auras! We can do anything!"

He proved his point by shattering the bottle over Cyril's head.

"Ow! Damn it, Archer, that still hurts!" moaned Cyril.

Archer laughed. "That never gets old."

Hours later, after canvassing half of downtown Vale and getting slapped across the face twelve times apiece, Archer and Cyril finally took a break. The sun hung low in the sky, and with the day's fights completed, the streets were packed with revelers. Cyril studied his notes as Archer sipped on a newly-obtained bottle of _something_ from one of the shops in town.

"So, we've got… six abandoned commercial buildings, including the bookstore where the owner was murdered; fourteen abandoned apartments, three damaged homes, and that report of the breach from the underground tracks a few months ago," muttered Cyril. "Lana said she and Ray found over two dozen possible locations in the Warehouse District. Pam and Cheryl didn't learn anything. Not that I'm surprised."

"They are pretty worthless," agreed Archer.

"Your Mother wanted us back by dark. We should get moving," said Cyril standing.

"Right? I'm starving! And now we're off the clock, we can have some actual fun," said Archer.

"Where are you—oh," said Cyril.

Archer was heading for the most crowded club on the road. Cyril looked to the Heavens, shaking his head, before he followed the spy in. They pushed through the crowd of revelers to the bar, where Archer snatched two seats from a blonde haired, monkey-tailed boy and his blue-haired companion. They scanned the room.

"This place seems pretty popular with Faunus," said Cyril.

"This is a whole new level of exotic," said Archer. "You'd think this would be weird cuz of… you know… Furries? But it's really not."

"What'll it be?" asked the bartender. He had antlers.

"Uh… just a water with lemon," said Cyril.

Archer laughed. "Cyril. No. Auras, remember? That's gotta give our liver extra protections. That means we can drink the strongest drinks all night long! What's that cocktail Pam always drinks when we're out?

"… You mean an entire mini-keg of Jager?" asked Cyril.

"Yeah, that! Get me one of those," said Archer. "And get him something fruity."

"… Coming right up," said the bartender, absently scratching his antler.

Cyril sighed. "Let me guess: we're gonna drink ourselves stupid here, and you're gonna find a couple of floozies to go home with, right?"

"That's about the long and short of it, yeah," said Archer. "Besides, we might end up with dangerous, sexy members of the White Fang. And our seductions will lead us into a complicated situation that will reveal some of their plan—"

"That only happens in movies!" complained Cyril. "This isn't James Bond, Archer."

"Psh. Bond's a pussy," said Archer.

The bartender returned with the enormous dispenser for Archer and a blue-and-green layered cocktail for Cyril. The former immediately took a deep pull from one of the dispenser handles, and the latter sipped his drink, brooding over their intel. After a few minutes, Archer giggled, and tapped Cyril on the shoulder.

"Hey. Cyril. Look. Found a pig for you," teased Archer.

"Come on, Archer, that's a horrible thing to say," grumbled Cyril.

"No, seriously," said Archer. "She's literally part pig. Look."

Cyril turned and saw a short, blonde Huntress standing with a group of her friends in the corner. True to Archer's word, she had pig ears, and her nose was rounded like a pig's snout.

"Oh," he said.

"Right?" asked Archer. "Wonder if she's got the spiral tail to match?"

"I don't know, Archer, why don't you go ask her?" asked Cyril, angrily.

"… yeah, you're right," said Archer. He walked into the crowd.

"Wh-! Archer, wait, I was kidding!" exclaimed Cyril, plunging in after him.

The pig-eared Faunus girl slapped Archer. Another with ram horns slapped Archer and Cyril. By the time Archer had kicked most of the keg, hand and claw prints covered their faces, they'd been removed from two bars, and Cyril had come to the realization that, in fact, having an aura did NOT grant him any extra tolerance. He stumbled after Archer, trying desperately to keep up. He didn't know how late it was anymore; the streets were almost empty.

"W-wait up," muttered Cyril, tripping over a discarded bottle. "M-maybe we should go back to the hotel…"

"No way! One more place! Those guys with the red glasses were talking about it… a guy named Junior runs it, and they swore it's the best club in all Vale. We can't miss that!" exclaimed Archer.

Cyril nearly dissolved in tears, falling to his knees in the middle of the street. Archer stopped, snorted with laughter, and knelt down next to him.

"Cyril, buddy, if you really want to call it a night, I'll get you back," said Archer.

"Y-you will?!" slurred Cyril. "Archer, that's—."

Archer stood up and flagged down a passing couple on an orange-and-yellow motorcycle. "Excuse me! Hey! Ladies!"

The bike screeched to a halt next to them. The driver pulled off her yellow helmet and goggles and tossed back her voluminous blonde hair. The girl on the back of the bike did the same, though her helmet was black. Her eyes were amber, and staring very coldly at Archer and Cyril.

"Yo. What's up?" asked the blonde.

Archer looked her up and down, and whistled. "Damn. I love literally everything about this."

"Thanks, creep," said the blonde girl. "Well, you two have a good night."

She put her helmet back on and revved the engine on her bike. Archer stepped in front of her.

"Sorry, sorry! That's not why I flagged you down. See, my acquaintance here has had a few too many, and I need to get him to his hotel," said Archer.

The girls looked at Cyril, who could barely stand without a deathgrip on a trashcan for support.

"And what does that have to do with us?" asked the black-haired girl.

"I was hoping I could convince you to take him. It's not far," said Archer. "I just… have a date, and I can't miss it."

"He looks like he's about to puke. No thanks," said the blonde.

"I'll pay ya. Triple the rate what a cab would take," said Archer, pulling out his wallet. He stared at the money inside of it. "Uh. Mother didn't explain how much was what, so… is this enough?"

He held out ¾ of their money. The two girls looked at each other. The blonde grinned, staring inquisitively. The black-haired girl glared at her, sighed, and shrugged.

"Fine," she said. "But how are we gonna keep him upright?"

"Put him between us," said Yang. "If he starts retching, we're throwing him off."

"Deal," said the girl. "Let's get this over with."

Archer knelt down next to Cyril, whose energy was leaving him. He stared up at Archer, struggling to keep his eyes open. The black-haired girl and Archer each slid an arm under Cyril's own arms, lifting him to a sitting position on the bike.

Archer leaned over and whispered into his ear. "You're welcome."

As Cyril began to black out, he slumped over against the blonde. He vaguely felt her recoil. The black-haired girl settled herself precariously on the back of the bike, trying to hold him upright.

"Do you think this is really gonna work, Yang?" the black girl asked, her voice echoing as Cyril started to lose consciousness.

"Who cares? He gave us enough to cover meals for the rest of the tournament, for us _and_ JNPR…"

 **The Next Morning…**

Cyril woke up in his bed, and his head was spinning so bad he fell out of bed when he tried to climb to it. He barely made it to the bathroom in time. When his stomach was rid of every drop of remaining alcohol, he pulled himself into the shower, where he promptly passed out again. He awoke a second time to someone shaking him.

"Cyril. Hey, Cyril. How you doin' buddy? You okay?"

"Pam? Is that you?" asked Cyril, groggily. He shook his head, realized he was still half in the shower, and grabbed for a towel. "Jeezy-Pete's, Pam! I'm naked!"

"No shit?" she asked. "Never would have guessed."

Cyril chased her out of the bathroom, dried off, and dug out a new pair of clothes from his suitcase. His head still pulsed with pain on every step. Worse, he couldn't find his glasses, and the blurry vision certainly wasn't helping the hangover. He tore his room apart for another hour, finding everything but the glasses. There was an impatient knock on the door.

"Cyril, are you trying to make Malory angry? We're due downstairs for a briefing in ten minutes," came Lana's voice.

"I can't find my glasses! Have you seen them?" asked Cyril.

"Nnnnnnnnope! Maybe you should have asked those two tricks who dropped you off last night," suggested Lana, stalking away.

"I… wait, what?" asked Cyril, stumbling after her.

He followed Lana half-blind down the hallway and stairs, to a special meeting room set-up for use by ISIS only. From the blurred outlines of their bodies and faces, Cyril could tell everyone was already assembled… except Archer and Krieger.

"My God, Cyril, you look terrible," complained Malory.

"I feel even worse," said Archer. "Does anyone have some painkillers?"

"Well, I DID, until Miss Pillsbury over here decided to eat all of them," said Ray. He was probably glaring at Cheryl, although Cyril couldn't be sure.

"UGH," groaned Cheryl. "I _told_ _you_ it wasn't me. Krieger probably did it."

"Why would Krieger want to steal Tylenol? Doesn't he have much stronger stuff in his own arsenal?" asked Pam.

"And, speaking of, where is he?" asked Lana.

"He'll be along. He was very excitable this morning. Said he had something big to show us," said Malory, drinking down her coffee. "I'm besides myself with excitement."

The sarcasm was so thick, it actually felt like it was stabbing Cyril in the ears. He held his head in his hands, trying to think back to the night previous. Everything after the second bar was blurry, and everything after the motorcycle girls was lost. He may have dozed off again on the table, but was rudely awakened when someone slammed into it.

"I come bearing GIFTS!" declared Krieger, beaming at the group, and holding an assortment of boxes under his arms.

He slammed them down on the table. Cheryl clapped her hands with glee and jumped up to start pawing at the boxes, but the others were a little more hesitant. Cyril could think of many of Krieger's previous "gifts" and how very little of them ever actually turned out well for everyone.

"What kind of gifts?" asked Lana.

"Weapons!" exclaimed Krieger. "I've been up all night working on them, and I think I've perfect them!"

"Gimme, gimme, gimme!" exclaimed Cheryl, ripping open the boxes. She picked a longer, fat one up. "This one's mine, right?!"

"Yep! Just as you requested: a guitar!" said Krieger, beaming.

"WOOO Outlaw Country Lives!" screamed Cheryl, tearing at the wrapping.

Ray cleared his throat. "Um. Okay. Not trying to be a Debbie Downer, but is a guitar really that much of a weapon?"

"Hm, I don't know Ray… Cheryl, why don't you give him a taste?" said Krieger, sweetly.

"AW YEAH!" screeched Cheryl.

She slam-strummed the strings of the guitar, and the resulting pulse of energy shot out of the end of the instrument. It knocked Ray clean over, slammed Pam's head around, tipped over a table, and broke the pane out of one of the windows. Cheryl cackled maniacally.

"Okay… I lie corrected," squeaked Ray. "Can someone get this table off my chest?"

"Weaponized instruments are all the rage in the country of Atlas here," said Krieger. "The strings can be infused with Dust! This gives them different properties. Try it out!"

"OUTside," hollered Malory. "I won't have you getting us kicked out of the only passable hostel in this God-forsaken town."

Cheryl ran cheering from the room, nearly bowling over a bellboy carrying room service.

"The sixth string is the Taser you asked for!" Krieger yelled after her.

Soon, the sounds of strumming, screaming, shocking, and exploding echoed from outside. Undaunted, Krieger went through the other weapons in the mini-arsenal he'd created: a shotgun/pitchfork combination for Pam, gun attachments for Ray's robotic legs, and a few other ideas he'd had that didn't work out.

"But!" exclaimed Krieger. "One of my crowing achievements is… this!"

He pulled out a pair of glasses, and, even in his blurred vision, Cyril could tell immediately that they were his.

"What the Hell, Krieger?! Did you steal my glasses?!" asked Cyril, snatching them back.

"Borrowed," pointed out Krieger. "I've weaponized them! Clothing-based weaponry is some of the greatest achievements of the other kingdoms."

"How do they work?" asked Cyril.

"Try them on! There are little attachments on the side that recognize your thought patterns, and activate the Dust contained within," said Krieger.

"Um… okay?" said Cyril, putting them on.

"Now close your eyes and think 'boom'," said Krieger.

Cyril took a deep breath, gulped, and did as he was told. A flash of red formed in front of his face, and then the Dust triggered another explosion. Cyril flew backwards over the table, crashing down next to Malory. His head practically splitting open with pain, Cyril could only weep quietly at their feet. Krieger scribbled something down on a notepad.

"Calibration… still… near-sighted…" he muttered.

"So, Krieger. These weapons? I notice none of them are for me. Why is that?" asked Lana.

"Oh! I actually had something here for you as well," said Krieger. He opened another box and pulled out Lana's TEC-9's and the holster she wore. "Right here, see—."

"KRIEGER!" snarled Lana, grabbing him by the shoulder. "WHAT did I tell you about MODIFYING my GUNS?! Did you FORGET about Belarus?!"

Krieger squealed pain. "N-no, I didn't! I didn't touch them! I just modified the _ammo_! You d-didn't forbid that!"

Lana released him. "Fair point. Fine. What do you have?"

"I-it's pretty basic," said Krieger, wincing as he rubbed his shoulder. "Left one has ice bullets, right one has explody-firey ones. Though… maybe I should have made you a glove, or claws…"

Lana shoved one of the guns up under his chin. "Keep it up, and I'll use you for target practice like Archer did to Cyril yesterday."

"Speaking of, where is Cassanova today?" asked Ray.

Malory chugged everything out of her cup. "How should I know? I'm sure he'll wake up in some… brothel somewhere, covered in floozies, with a bottle waiting for him on his bedside table."

 **Somewhere Across Town…**

When Archer awoke, he had a dark-skinned, literal half-foxy woman on his left, and a blonde human 20-something on the other. After giving himself a few moments to mentally enjoy the third-strangest thing he'd ever woken up to, he pulled himself out from under their arms, threw on his clothes from the night before, grabbed what was left of the booze on the nightstand, and left the small motel room.

The motel was situated on the boardwalk area overlooking the harbor of Vale. It was nearly deserted; the citizens and tourists were mostly up watching the day's matches. Judging from the sun's position in the sky, it was getting to be late afternoon, going on early evening. In other words: perfect time for a drink. Archer set off down the street, scanning for a place to get a cocktail or six. Most of the bars he passed were closed… except for one small place close to the path that lead to Beacon.

"Crow… Bar. Hah. Hahaha," Archer giggled. "The pun alone warrants at least one drink."

Like everywhere else, the bar was mostly deserted. It had only a dozen stools, and standing room for three times that number. The bartender was a friendly sort, sporting a green bowtie and well-maintained moustache. The only other patron was hunched over his glass, and gave Archer a quick glance when he entered the bar.

"Welcome to Crow Bar!" exclaimed the Bar Tender. "What'll it be?"

"Ehhhhh… surprise me," said Archer, dropping into the bar seat next to the other guy at the bar. "This place is deserted."

"Yup. Everyone's up watching the day's matches," said the bartender. "There's a few really good battles so far, and more to come!"

The other patron snorted. "If you think those are 'really good,' you need your standards examined."

"W-well, for Hunters and Huntresses in training— "

"Glorifying training fighters is a good way to give them an ego. That'll get 'em killed," said the other guy.

Archer laughed. "I like this guy. He gets it."

The bartender handed Archer his glass, and he held it up to his fellow patron. After a brief pause, the man gently clinked his glass to Archer's, and they both took a deep swallow. A T.V. in the corner was covering the day's matches. Team JNPR was about to take on Team BRNZ.

"What's your name, friend?" asked the bartender.

"Archer. Sterling Archer. In town on business," said Archer. He drained his cup. "Keep 'em coming."

"Y-yes, of course," said the bartender.

The other man glanced at Archer and sized him up. Archer watched him from the corner of his eye. He couldn't remember ever seeing a man with red eyes before, but the man didn't appear to be a Faunus, either. His black hair was messy, and his eyes already held the glaze of a man several sheets to the wind.

"So. You're the famous Sterling Archer," said the other man.

"Uh… yeah?" said Archer. He hadn't expected anyone in Remnant to know of him. "Who are you?"

"Qrow. That'll do for now," said the man, finishing another drink himself.

"Crow? That's… wait, so are you part crow, or…?"

The man chuckled. "Technically, no. Let's watch this shit show of a battle, eh?"

"… All right, why not?"

Archer watched as the battle began. The sniper took up a quick position in the tree line, and it threw the other team for a complete loop. They immediately called a retreat (which looked completely unorganized), and hid behind some rocks while the enemy advanced on them.

"They're screwed," said Archer.

One drink later, after watching the dude with the pink streak in his hair get wrecked, the hammer-wielding girl raged-out and went after the guy who'd attacked her friend. He hit her with some sort of nightstick-Taser combination thing, but Archer saw her little health bar wasn't depleting like the boy's hand.

"Oh-ho! Looks like one of my favorite students is charging up to use her semblance," said one of the announcers.

"Semblance? The hell is that?" asked Archer.

Qrow stared at him, half surprised, half amused. "Really? Ozpin didn't tell you?"

"No? I mean, he showed us auras, and I tested it out with my gun, but is that… the same?" asked Archer.

"A semblance is… I guess you could call it your unique power, since everyone's got a different one," said Qrow. "It's something special that only you can do. It's connected to your aura, yeah, but it makes you stronger."

"Oh. So crazy chick can channel electricity," said Archer, as he watched the hammer girl literally slam her opponent through a rock. "Wonder what mine is."

"Strange that you never heard of semblance before, buddy. May I ask where you're from?" asked the bartender.

"Hey! I'm not paying you to chat, I'm paying you to make me drinks," said Archer, draining his drink for good measure.

"Sorry, sorry!"

Qrow smirked at Archer, and followed suit. Three drinks apiece later, they stared in slight confusion as the two teams appeared to simply stop fighting. Then, hammer girl abruptly flung herself into the air, crushed the entire opposing team, and sent them crashing headlong into the invisible barrier at the edge of the arena. Archer cackled madly at the sight. Qrow stared at the screen, a mix of boredom and derision on his face.

"Huh. Those kids weren't half-bad," said the bar tender.

Qrow grunted in response. Archer shrugged.

"The redhead and the hammer chick were pretty good. The rest of them… eh," said Archer, shrugging.

As the next battle was readied, Archer was surprised to see two familiar faces. The golden-haired monkey boy and the tall blue-haired one from the bar were joined by two other guys (one tall, dark, and muscular, one short, pale, and Ray-like). Their opponents were four gorgeous girls from some other country, or whatever. Archer didn't care.

"Now _this_ is a battle worth watching," said Archer.

"I think they're only 16," muttered the bartender.

"And? What's the age of consent in this country anyway? 14? 15?" asked Archer. "We talkin' like… Georgia, Alabama, West Virginia here…?"

Qrow shrugged at him, and returned to brooding over the screen. Six drinks later, Archer was in a shouting match with the TV over fouls and rules and terrible camera angles and missed potential for most of the fight. When the red-haired man got hit by the coconuts, though, Archer actually recoiled.

"Well, good thing he never would have wanted kids," said Archer.

"That's… not very nice," said the bartender.

"And these aren't very strong, but you don't hear me complaining," said Archer, shaking his empty glass at the man.

The girls gained the upper hand, or so it seemed. Archer almost laughed himself sick when he realized the blue-haired boy (named Neptune, of all things) was afraid of water. Even Qrow had to let out a couple chuckles on that. The bartender seemed bothered by the whole thing.

"It's not nice to make fun of people's fears, you know," he said.

"And it's not nice… for you… to… uh… damn it, I had something for this," said Archer, as he added his newest empty glass to the leaning tower he and Qrow had managed to amass between themselves.

The match finally ended on an electrical shock that took out three of the other girls in one electrified hit. Qrow emptied another glass and shook the ice around it. Archer finally felt his head begin to swim, and the evening was growing later. He checked his phone, realized it had been on silent all day, and saw that he had 12 missed calls and 45 texts. He deleted them all without even reading them. As the announcers recapped the battle, the bartender whistled.

"Now that was a match," he said.

Qrow chuckled darkly. "That was a mess."

"Agreed," said Archer.

"C'mon man, you didn't like them, the Vale kids, or any of the rounds before that?! What fight are you here for?!" exclaimed the bartender, finally losing his patience.

Archer opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of engines stopped him. He and Qrow turned to the entrance of the small bar. Overlooking the bay, they were able to see the approaching ship. It was much more elaborate than the flying ship Archer and the other ISIS members had ridden in on, and the streamers trailing from each of its wings gave it a particularly gaudy appearance. Qrow's eyes narrowed.

"That one," he said, stumbling to his feet and draining his final drink. "Wooh… heh. Happy Vytal Festival."

He dropped his money on the bar next to his empty glass and stumbled away in a haze. Archer stared after him, and then looked back at the bar tender. He dug into his wallet, pulled out all the currency he had left, and slammed it on the bar. He stood, realizing how drunk he was, and chased after Qrow. Behind him, the tower of glasses swayed and fell to the ground with a shatter.

"Aw… G-Darn it," he heard the bartender complain as he left.

"Qrow!" Archer called. "Wait up!"

"Hmm? Oh, right, right… you," said Qrow. "Sorry. Guess you're going my way too, huh?"

"Yeah. Mother and the others are probably wondering where I am," said Archer. "Gotta get our mission briefing on."

"Heh. Hope you're ready for a doozy," said Qrow.

"Yeah. So, uh, what's going on with that big ship that just flew by?" asked Archer.

"An old friend," said Qrow. "I've been dying to see her."

"Oh. Cool. She part of our team, or…?" asked Archer.

"Who, that Ice Queen? Huh. Nowadays, I wonder," muttered Qrow. "Atlas and General Ironwood have been… pretty sketchy lately."

"Ironwood… Ironwood…" muttered Archer. "Hm. Feel like I should know something about him."

"Just you wait. You're gonna… hic… you're gonna be amazed," said Qrow, walking ahead.

Archer followed him all the way to the gates of Beacon. The gaudy ship was parked in the harbor with the rest of the transport ships, though its immense size meant it took over three spots on its own. A large group of onlookers, freshly returned from the Colosseum, walked along the paths. Suddenly, Qrow stopped.

"There," he said, his voice icy.

Archer followed his gaze. In the distance, two white-haired girls walked along the path, flanked by six mechanical-looking guards. They were either drones or androids, but either way, they made Archer uncomfortable. And, apparently, they made Qrow angry.

"Who are they—?" Archer began to ask.

Before he could finish, Qrow had hurtled himself down the path, disabled one of the bots, ripped the head off the other, and chucked it towards the other robots and the girls. Gasps of shock went up from around the onlookers that were actually paying attention.

"Hey! Yeah, I'm talking to you, Ice Queen!" yelled Qrow.

The girls and the other robots turned to look at them. Archer's eyes immediately went to the taller one. She was in a crisp, pressed uniform, and her rigid stance told Archer that she was military. Her icy stare to Qrow and Archer made him both uncomfortable, and if he was being honest, somewhat aroused.

"Halt!" commanded the girl.

"Hey, uh, Qrow? Who is she? And how did you disable that robot?" asked Archer.

Qrow shrugged Archer off, ignoring his questions entirely. The shorter of the two girls stomped indignantly towards the men. Her hands were balled into tiny fists, and her own glare was far less terrifying than the taller one.

"Excuse me! Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" she hissed.

Qrow drunkenly pushed her away by the forehead. "Sssshhhhhh, not you."

"Hey!" the girl snapped. Archer chuckled.

"You," said Qrow, stepping forward.

Archer glanced around through the crowd. Qrow and the tall, white-haired chick were given a wide berth by the rest of the onlookers. Whispers and low voices surrounded them. In the crowd, Archer saw some of his ISIS coworkers.

"Lana! Hey! Lana!" Archer yelled, hurrying down the path.

With the tension between Qrow and the tall girl, few people paid him any mind. Lana, Ray, Cyril, Pam, Cheryl, and Krieger stared at Archer as he pushed through the crowd to get to them. Lana rolled her eyes.

"And, of course, Archer shows up when the briefings and planning are done. Finally get rid of your floozies from last night?" she asked.

"You guys gotta meet my friend Qrow!" exclaimed Archer, ignoring her sass.

"Is he the one that just ripped apart those robots?" asked Pam.

"Yeah!"

"He's a monster," muttered Krieger, his hand clutched to his throat.

"No, he's awesome! Plus, he knows that Oz dude!" exclaimed Archer.

"Wait, what? How?!" exclaimed Ray.

"Dunno, but he's a boss," said Archer.

Behind them, the white-haired girl and Qrow continued to snark at each other.

"You realize you just destroyed Atlas military property?" the girl said.

"Ohhh, I'm sorry!" replied Qrow. "See, I mistook this from sort of… sentient garbage."

Archer burst into laughter. Only Cheryl joined him, and mostly because of the amount of glue she'd ingested. Krieger actually let out a sob, and buried his face into Ray's shoulder. Lana stared at Archer.

"That's not funny," she said. "The Atlas military are part of our support system here, Archer! This 'Qrow' could be working for our enemy for all we know. How much did you tell him?"

"Nothing! We just were drinking at the same bar, and watched those kids fight from earlier," said Archer. "Calm down, Lana."

"She's right, though," said Cyril. "Ozpin called Atlas here, same as us! We should help her."

"She's got four robot guardians. I think she'll be fine, Cyril," said Pam.

Archer ignored the group and pushed back toward the front of the crowd to listen to Qrow and the tall woman.

"I'm not sure what you think you're implying, but I've heard enough," said the tall woman. Her voice was as chilling as her glare. A shiver ran down Archer's spine.

"Oh, I heard, too!" countered Qrow. "I heard ol' Ironwood finally turned his back on Ozpin."

"Ozpin?" asked the shorter girl.

"Weiss, it's time for you to go," said the taller girl.

"What?"

"Listen to big sister, Weiss," said Qrow. "She'll protect you. Just like Atlas is gonna protect all of us, huh?"

"If you won't hold your tongue, then I will gladly remove it for you!" hissed the tall girl, pulling out her sword.

More gasps from the crowd. Lana, Cyril, Pam, and Cheryl pushed their way through the crowd, too. Archer let out a "WOOP!" for Qrow.

"All right then," said Qrow. He pushed his bangs out of his face and stood straighter up. "Come take it."

The tall girl dove at him quicker than Archer could have even seen. Qrow dodged every single one of her furious slashes and sword thrusts, until the final one, which he parried with his own, oversized sword. His counter-attacks were dodged by the white-haired woman's repeated backflips and parries.

"C'mon, Qrow, show her whose boss!" yelled Archer.

"Woo! Kill her!" said Cheryl.

"Oh my God. Stop. We shouldn't be getting involved," fretted Cyril.

The shorter one, Weiss, was standing next to Archer when another girl in a red cloak shoved through the ISIS agents to talk to her.

"What's going on?!" she squealed.

"Some crazy guy just started attacking my sister!" yelled Weiss.

"Oh no! Who would do such a th—AAAH! It's my Uncle!" yelled the red-cloaked girl.

"What?!" exclaimed Archer and Weiss at the same time.

"Kick her butt, Uncle Qrow!" cheered Red Cloak.

"Uhh, teach him respect, Winter!" Weiss stammered.

Their battle grew even more ferocious, with their blades moving almost faster than Archer's eyes could see. The crowd cheered and gasped, but it was the ISIS group who led the loudest shouts and cheers.

"Get her, Qrow! You got this!" Archer screamed.

"Yeah, knock her out!" added Pam.

"DESTROY THAT BITCH!" shrieked Cheryl.

"Ex _cuse_ me!" yelled Weiss, turning to glare at them. "That's _my sister_ you're talking about!"

Pam and Cheryl glanced at each other, then looked back down at Weiss.

"Oops. Awkward," muttered Pam.

"HEY! KILL HER NEXT!" roared Cheryl, pointing at Weiss. "EXTINGUISH THE WHOLE LINE!"

"W-what?!" gasped Weiss.

"That's it. We're leaving," said Lana. "Cyril, help me grab her."

"Let me go!" yelled Cheryl, struggling against their grip.

"Calm down, spaz, before you get us blacklisted from another country," said Ray.

"Come on, Archer," hissed Lana.

"Hang on, I wanna make sure Qrow beats her," said Archer.

They didn't have to wait long. Qrow landed a series of blows so powerful that it pushed them out of the ring of students watching the fight. The girl, apparently named Winter, got a strong hit in on Qrow's jaw with the handle of her sword. His head snapped back around, and for a moment, a flash went through his eye.

"Uh oh," said Archer, taking a few steps back.

Qrow brought his sword in a wide arc around his head, hoisting it high above. Winter conjured some sort of spinning rune, and jumped out of the way just as Qrow's blade dug into the ground. The resulting explosion sent chunks of stone and earth flying in every direction. Large pieces slammed into Cyril, Pam, Cheryl, and Krieger.

"Son of a bitch!" screamed Pam.

"OW! Jesus!" snarled Cheryl.

"Ugh! Th-that power!" exclaimed Krieger. "How did he—?"  
"Probably his semblance! Move!" Lana yelled, dragging them out of the way of the next assault.

Winter landed on the grass next to the path, but Qrow's frenzy wasn't over. He dove after her, and his clean-cut attack severed a light pole directly in half. The heavy, iron structure fell down, clipping Ray and knocking Cyril to the ground. Archer doubled over in laughter as the others dragged him out from under it.

"Why is it always me?" whimpered Cyril, holding his shoulder.

"Suck less, then!" Archer called, running after Qrow and Winter.

The last he saw of them, Winter was literally running up the side of a wall, Qrow was taking pot shots at her, and then he leaped literally several stories into the air to give chase to her over the walls. Archer stopped, doubled over and winded. He knew there was no way he could keep up.

"Oh, for Pete's sake, what have you all done _now_?" came a familiar moan.

Malory had arrived, a drink in one hand and a shaker in the other. She surveyed her employees, noting the enormous hole in the ground that surrounded all of them. She shook her head, popped the top off the shaker, and topped off her cocktail, draining the entire thing. She threw the glass on the ground.

"This wasn't us, Mother," Archer said. "It was my new friend, Qrow, and some crazy bitch named Winter."

"Crow and Winter? Are you _drunk_ again?" asked Malory.

"Well, uh, actually… yes," said Archer. "But that has nothing to do with it!"

"He's telling the truth for once, Mrs. Archer," said Pam. "Ask anyone here!"

"I suppose you're going to tell me some big bird and a literal _season_ did this?" Malory asked, swirling on her heel to glare at Pam. "Don't get lippy with me, Missy!"

"Mother, are _you_ drunk?" asked Archer.

"I'll ask the questions around here!" hissed Malory.

 **WHAM!** The ground exploded around them, and debris from a nearby walkway hit the ground in a deadly hail. Students dove and ran for cover, and Malory could only gape at the two sword fighters as they danced their deadly, sword-swinging dance across the pathway. Archer gave his mother a smug look, while the latter drained the dregs from her shaker, before discarding that as well.

"Well, on the plus side, the mass destruction of property isn't our fault for once," said Cyril.

"Always looking on the bright si—are those birds?" asked Malory.

Winter had another one of those spinning circle things below her, and a swarm of tiny, bird-like things were surrounding and attacking Qrow. For the first time, Archer felt like his new friend was at a disadvantage. He made to run after him, but an angry voice behind him stopped him.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

An older, graying man with an even crisper uniform than Winter's stood before them. A short, ginger-haired girl with a pink bow in her hair followed him, smiling blankly at the others. Malory immediately turned on the charm, and sauntered up next to him, a flirty smile on her face.

"So good of you to join us, General Ironwood," said Malory. "It appears that one of your associates has been attacked by a man—"

"What?! No, Mother, she attacked him first!" yelled Archer.

"Oh, whatever, the point is, the damage was caused by them, and not ISIS," said Malory.

"Unbelievable. I'll put a stop to this," said Ironwood, striding away.

Archer looked past him to where Qrow stood, readying his weapon for some other attack. Winter had conjured up one of her spinning circles, but this one stood vertical, against her back. Archer whistled and waved at Qrow. Qrow saw this, cocked his head to the side, and sheathed his weapon. Then, he taunted the girl, offering up his cheek as a target. Enraged, Winter shot across the space between her and Qrow, going for the killing strike.

"SCHNEE!" yelled the general.

Winter froze, turned, and immediately stood at attention. "General Ironwood, Sir!"

"What in the world do you think you're doing?" asked Ironwood.

"He started the altercation, sir," said the panicked Winter.

"Bullshit!" yelled Archer. "We all saw you!"

"Yeah, you're in for it now!" exclaimed Cheryl.

Qrow didn't need their help. "That's actually not true; she attacked first."

Ironwood stared at her. "Is that right?"  
Defeated, Winter held her head in shame, and her shoulders slumped. Ironwood surveyed the damaged to his robots, the courtyard, the looks on the students faces, and the ISIS agents. Archer lurched by all of them to stand next to Qrow.

"That was amazing! You gotta show me you did that," said Archer. He turned back to his fellow ISIS agents. "Didn't I tell you? Total badass!"

Qrow smirked at Archer, but then Ironwood move his glare from Winter to Qrow.

"And you," he said, stepping close to Qrow and bringing his voice down. "What are _you_ doing _here_?"

"I could be asking you the same thing," counter Qrow, his voice as loud as normal.

"I—"

"Now, now, everyone" came Ozpin's voice from behind the crowd.

He and Glynda had arrived. Although he kept a smile on his face, Archer could sense Ozpin's anger. Glynda made no attempt to hid her disdain or frustration with the scene in front of her.

"There is a sanctioned fight happening just around the corner at the colosseum that I can assure you has better seats. And popcorn," said the Headmaster.

"Wait, I thought they said the matches were done for the day?" Archer asked Qrow. Qrow shrugged.

"Break it up, everyone!" commanded Glynda. "We will take care of this mess."

"Let's go," said Ironwood, leading Winter away.

The crowd finally began to disperse. The ISIS agents joined Archer and Qrow at the center of the courtyard, except for Malory who went after Ironwood and Winter. The small, ginger girl from before turned and waved at someone by them.

"She's beautiful," said Krieger, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Uncle Qrow!" squealed the Red Hood girl, flying out of nowhere to dangle on his arm. "Hi. It's so good to see you! Did you miss me? _DID YOU MISS ME?!"_

Qrow smirked at her. "Nope."

"Qrow. Archer. A word, please," said Ozpin.

Glynda began to repair the damage to the courtyard, pulling all the shattered stones and rocks back from where they landed to their original position (at least two clipped Cyril on their way back in).

"I think we're in trouble," Qrow whispered loudly to his niece.

"You did kinda tear up our courtyard," she said, shrugging.

"Yeah, I did," he said. "Catch ya later, kid."

"Ah, man, I guess we're all in trouble anyway," said Pam.

The ISIS agents followed Ozpin and Glynda back to the entrance of the school. Malory was waiting for them, as Glynda returned her shattered beverage glass to her hand. She pulled out another shaker from her purse, and poured herself another drink.

"Where's Ironwood?" asked Archer.

"Went upstairs. Told me to wait while he talked with his hot-headed subordinate," said Malory.

"Oops. Dumped before the first date," said Ray. "Bet that smarts."

"Can it, Liberace," said Malory.

They entered the foyer and moved to the elevator. The doors slid open, and Archer followed his mother, Ray, Lana, Ozpin, Qrow, and Glynda in. When the others tried to enter, Malory blocked the door and cleared her throat.

"And where do you think you four are going?" Malory asked Krieger, Pam, Cheryl, and Cyril.

"Um, it's this new thing called, an 'elevator'?" snarked Cheryl.

"I'm terribly sorry, but this meeting is absolutely classified," said Ozpin.

"Only those with a 'need-to-know' may be permitted," added Glynda.

"Aw, we wanna come," said Pam. "We promise not to say anything."

"Field agents only. Womp womp," said Ray, as the door slid closed.

"Damn it!" sword Pam. "Now what do we do for two hours?"

"Actually, Cheryl and I have an idea. I just need you two to break into the girls' locker rooms and retrieve something for me," said Krieger.

"There are so many things wrong with that sentence," said Cyril.

"Don't worry, Cyril, we made sure you were included, too," said Cheryl, throwing her arms around him. "Come on, we're gonna be late if we don't get moving!"

"Where we going?" asked Pam.

"Let's just say… I worked some of my magic to get us some front row seats to the competition," said Krieger, tapping his fingers together in a very sinister fashion.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Elevator ride up to Ozpin's office only took a couple of minutes, but they were long, painfully awkward minutes. Nobody seemed to want to look at each other, and the only sounds came from the occasional sips Oz or Malory would take from their drinks. Archer peered around at everyone, but all he saw were the icy glares that Glynda, Malory, and Lana were giving the walls and floor.

"So… did I miss anything exciting?" asked Archer.

"Archer…" growled Lana.

"What? Just saying, it feels like some… things may have happened while I was gone?" said Archer.

"You can't just disappear in a place like this!" exclaimed Ray. "We don't know hardly anything about this land, and or our enemy!"

"Oh, save your breath," grumbled Malory. "Your pontifi-gayting won't solve anything."

" _Yeah_ , Ray!" said Archer.

"Unbelievable," said Glynda, rubbing her temples. "I find it a miracle that any of you can function as a cohesive group. How do you come so highly recommended?"

"Dysfunction sometimes breeds greatest success," said Ozpin. "Trust me."

"Well, whatever it is, I—" Qrow began.

"Not now, Qrow," said Ozpin.

In response, Qrow shrugged, pulled out a flask, and took a deep pull from it. The silence resumed as the elevator finally reached the top. The doors slid open, revealing Ozpin's large office. General Ironwood and Winter Schnee stood there, the later pacing in front of her boss. She glared at the ISIS agents and Qrow especially as they stepped out of the elevator.

"What were you thinking?!" snarled Winter.

"If you were one of my men, I would have you shot!" added Ironwood.

"If I was one of your men, I'd shoot myself," retorted Qrow, immediately.

"Nice," said Archer, holding his hand up for a high-five. Qrow smirked and lightly returned the gesture.

"While I wouldn't condone his behavior, retaliating like you did certainly didn't help the situation," said Glynda.

"Wait… is she… actually taking our side?" asked Archer. Lana and Ray shrugged.

"They were drunk!" cried Winter, pointing to Archer and Qrow.

" _He's always drunk!_ " hissed Glynda, Lana, Ray, and Malory.

The others looked at each other, and then their gazes fell on Archer and Qrow, both of whom were mid-sip from their flasks. The two glanced at each other, back at the others, shrugged, and finished their drinks.

Ozpin sighed heavily as he sat behind his desk. Malory took an empty seat next to him, setting her own drink down delicately, folding her arms and facing the rest of the group with a judging scowl.

"Qrow, _why_ are you _here?_ " asked Ozpin.

"You've been out of contact for weeks!" grumbled Ironwood. "You can't just go dark like that in the field!"

"I'm not one of your _special operatives, Jimmy_ ," spat Qrow.

"General," corrected Winter, coldly.

"Whatever," replied Qrow. "You sent me to get intel on our enemy, and I'm telling you: our enemy is here."

There was a pause. Archer looked at Lana and Ray.

"For real? They are?" asked Archer.

"Yes!" hissed Lana. "If you'd read even _one_ of the things you were supposed to—"

"We know," said Ironwood.

"OH. Oh, you know. Well, thank goodness I'm out there risking my life to keep you all informed!" Qrow spat at the others.

"Qrow—" Ironwood began, exasperated.

"Communication's a two-way street, pal," Qrow said. He pulled out what looked to be some sort of smart phone. "You see this? That's the _send_ button."

"They had reason to assume you'd been compromised," Winter said, defensively.

"And I have reason to assume you don't need to be here," retorted Qrow.

"Burn," said Ray.

"Seriously? Who invited her?" Qrow asked.

Winter glared at Qrow defiantly, but as soon as her boss dismissed her, the Atlas Specialist's face went from haughty to horrified. It was as if it was beyond comprehension that she'd simply be dismissed like that. She gave one last icy glare at everyone in the room, lingering on Qrow and Archer, before she marched into the elevator and departed.

"She could end global warming with her glares alone," muttered Archer.

"That's now how it… ugh," sighed Lana. "Never mind."

"And the rest of them, I assume, are cleared?" asked Qrow.

"Yes. As I believe Mr. Archer has told you, these are the agents from ISIS. Outside sources, if you will. They'll be aiding us on security and… various other matters," said Ozpin.

Qrow smirked at them. "I hope you're ready."

"Go on," said Ozpin.

"Your little infiltrator isn't just another pawn. They're the one responsible for Autumn's condition," said Qrow.

"What?" gasped Glynda.

Archer saw the flash of shock across Ozpin and Ironwood's faces. He cut is eyes to Lana and Ray, and from the looks they were giving him, they'd seen the change, too. Finally: something interesting.

After finishing another drink, Qrow continued. "Despite what the world thinks, we're not just teachers or generals or headmasters. The people in this room, the leaders of the other two academies: we're the ones that keep the world safe from the evils no one even knows about."

"I… guess he's saying that for our benefit, right?" asked Ray.

"Yeah, it'd be pretty weird for him to say all that if it was just them here alone," muttered Archer.

"Shhh," snapped Malory. "This is important."

"For our mission? Or for how much you're going to end up charging them in the end?" asked Lana.

Malory didn't even dignify her comment with a response.

"It's why we meet behind closed doors," continued Qrow, stepping right into Ironwood's face, "why we work in the shadows, so you tell me, James: when you brought your army to Vale, did you think you were being discrete, or did you just not give a damn?!"

There was a tense pause, as Ironwood stared down at Qrow. Finally, he set his phone on the desk, bringing up a giant hologram of the Vale area, including projections of the flying ships, the colosseum, and the academy.

"Discrete wasn't working. I'm here because this is what was necessary," said Ironwood.

"You're here because Ozpin wanted you here!" snarled Qrow. "He made you a part of this inner circle, and opened your eyes to the real fight that's in front of us."

"And I am grateful," replied Ironwood.

"Oh, well, you've got a real funny way of showing it," retorted Qrow.

"The people of Vale needed someone to protect them. Someone who would act," responded Ironwood. "When they look to the sky and see my fleet, they feel safe. And our enemies will feel our strength."

Archer snorted, and then broke into laughter.

"What's so funny?" demanded Malory.

"He… he can't be serious," said Archer. "What is this, some kind of movie? Is he giving us a pep talk before the final battle? 'Our enemies will feel our strength?' Really?!"

Qrow was laughing too, but his laughter was harsh and taunting. "You… you think they're scared of your little ships?! I've been out there and I've seen the thing she's made, and let me tell you: they _are_ fear."

"And fear will bring the Grimm," said Ozpin, as he climbed to his feet. "A guardian is a symbol of comfort, but an _army_ is a symbol of conflict. There's an energy in the air now, a question in the back of everyone's minds. If this is the size of our defenses, what is it we're expecting to fight?"

Everyone stared at Ironwood, silence filling the room once again. After a moment, he sighed heavily, walked to the desk, shot an angry glance to Qrow, took his phone back, and the hologram disappeared. "So, then. What would you suggest we do?"

"I suggest we find our guardian," said Ozpin.

"All right, all right, you need so start filling us in with some details," said Archer. "If you brought an entire army here, what do you need us for? This is more than just some security detail, isn't it?"

"Yeah… if you wanted to be discrete, you maybe overdid it slightly with the three dozen flying warships," said Lana.

"Yes, you've all made that point abundantly clear," grumbled Ironwood.

"Ozpin, how much have you told them?" asked Qrow.

"Only the bare minimum required to get them to arrive," said Ozpin. "Ms. Archer, allow me to apologize for keeping you and your team in the dark for so long."

"That's quite all right, Dr. Ozpin," said Malory, her voice dripping with high-pitched, fake sweetness. "We pride ourselves on our adaptability, and will work with you according to the needs of your mission as time changes."

"With change fees and contingency charges," said Ray. Malory stomped on his foot, apparently forgetting that Ray had bionic legs again.

"As foreigners to our lands, you are unknown to our enemies, which gives us the element of surprise, and makes you perfect candidates for covert operations," said Glynda. "Our intent, partially at least, was to use your skills to monitor the Vytal Festival tournaments to discover the infiltrator or infiltrators in our midst."

"Any leads on who it might be? Maybe one of the other kingdoms?" asked Lana.

"No. This goes far above and beyond the kingdoms of Remnant," said Ironwood.

"Our enemy is a being whose power creates and controls the creatures of Grimm," said Qrow. "We don't know much about her, other than her name: Salem."

"Salem. Like, from the witch trials in Massachusetts?" asked Ray.

Ozpin, Ironwood, and Glynda gave him blank looks. Qrow glanced at Archer, his eyebrow raised. Malory groaned.

"Newsflash, Nancy Drew: they don't know our history! Think before you open your mincing little mouth," snapped the ISIS matriarch.

"I wouldn't worry about it," said Qrow. "Odds are, we won't be dealing directly with Salem. It's not her style to do her own dirty work. She has _people_ for that."

"However, with the Tournament and Festival going on, tens of thousands of people have been streaming in and out from all around the other kingdoms. It is no small task to vet all of them to try and find our suspects," said Ironwood.

"Do we know their motive? That could help us narrow down who or what we're looking for," said Lana.

"Chaos. That's their goal. The complete and total breakdown of humanity's already fragile peace," said Qrow.

"Doesn't really sound much different than what we deal with back in America, to be honest," said Lana.

"Except here they've got gun-swords and life force shields and literal flying Navies! C'mon, Lana, this is _nothing_ like we've ever done before!" exclaimed Archer.

"Okay, so, you've mentioned something about an Autumn earlier? What or who is that?" asked Ray.

"That… is something we will discuss at another time, I think," said Ozpin. "Forgive me: that particular piece is of utmost secrecy. Only Glynda, James, Qrow, and myself need to know. If all goes well, you will never need to be involved with it."

"Oh, come on! You can't just bring something like that up and then not tell us about it!" complained Archer. "What else are you hiding?"

"I can assure you, you will all be plenty busy with the things we need from you. Patrolling, monitoring, and working with General Ironwood and our other resources. I will tell you what I know," said Ozpin.

He touched a few buttons on his desk, and several screens popped up in front of his desk. One displayed a map of Remnant, two were basically walls of text, and one was a live look at the fights going on in the colosseum. The ISIS agents crowded around the desk.

"Though Salem's forces work in the shadows, we do have several concrete, identifiable threats connected to her. The White Fang, the Faunus-based organization, has been seen all around Vale, committing crimes, mostly Dust theft and assaults. However, isolated kidnappings and murders have been reported, too," said Ozpin.

"They're basically terrorists, then," said Lana.

"They've certainly had a much more violent way of doing things as of late," said Glynda. "They've been collaborating with a certain criminal mastermind here in Vale. One, I'm proud to say, we have in custody."

"Roman Torchwick," said Ironwood, bringing up a picture. "I have him captive on my personal ship. We've been interrogating him for a while, but he smugly refuses to talk."

"And I don't suppose Vale or Atlas utilize… _enhanced_ interrogative techniques, hmm?" asked Malory.

"You mean torture? Never. We are far more civilized," replied Glynda.

"Says the country who is hosting their own personal Hunger Games," said Ray.

"Oh, my God, Ray, they don't understand your American-centric cultural references," said Archer.

"In addition, our contacts in the local police force have given us some insight into certain, unexplained and unsolved crimes in and around the city. Our people are out of leads, and we were hoping a fresh set of eyes could give us further insight," said Ironwood.

"Oh, yay. Reading," said Archer. "No offense, but I think I'd be better off in the field, using my awesome _enhanced_ combat abilities and semblance."

"It's not as simple as that," said Qrow. "Mastering one's semblance comes at a steep price, and often takes years of training."

Archer laughed. "Listen, we've all been trained in a dozen different marital arts. Some that I don't even think are legal in this country. I _think_ we can handle a few fluffy-tailed terrorists and a metrosexual ginger."

"Still, it might be a good idea to have brought the others with us," said Lana. "While we focus on fieldwork, the others can do the background research, and look for clues and connections."

Archer laughed again. "You… you're serious, Lana? You really want Cheryl, Cyril, and Pam to—PAM?!"

Archer's eyes were drawn to the screen focused on the colosseum. On screen, Pam, Chery, Cyril, and Krieger stood on the arena grounds, waving the crowd. Cheryl (or she might have been going by Cherlene again from her checkered shirt and ripped denim jeans) stood with her guitar slung over her shoulder, cackling. Pam had Krieger's weird pitchfork-shotgun slung over her shoulder, and she had tried to squeeze herself into a Haven Academy uniform, though it didn't nearly fit right. Krieger had a stolen Haven uniform, but his lab coat was still thrown on overtop of it. Cyril looked utterly horrified, looking around as though he was waiting for someone to attack him.

"Sweet Jesus," croaked out Lana.

"What the _shit?!_ " screamed Archer.

"Oh, for Pete's sake…" said Malory, holding her head in one hand as she poured herself a fresh drink in the other.

"Uh oh," said Ray.

"W-what are those idiots _doing?!_ " exclaimed Glynda.

"Mother, why do _they_ get to fight in the contest?!" exclaimed Archer.

"Unbelievable," said Ironwood. "What are they playing at…?"

 **Meanwhile, at Amity Colosseum…**

"Ladies and gentlemen," boomed the low voice of one of the announcers. "We have had an exciting day of 4 versus 4 action, and we're not quite done yet! We've still got one more action-packed match for you tonight!"

"Yes. This match pits Team MNIA of Shade against Team PFAT of Haven!" exclaimed the other, faster-talking announcer person. "Surely this match will be one for the records. I know very little of either of these teams, so surprises should be plentiful!"

Cyril gulped hard, looking around at the thousands of faces staring down at him from the grounds. The other ISIS employees were enjoying themselves, smiling and waving to the crowds. Cyril felt ridiculous standing in the stolen uniform, though he was happy he at least wasn't Pam.

The opposing team stood across the arena, though they lacked uniforms as well. A tall, dark-haired boy dressed in a tactical-looking jacket and pants balanced a tomahawk on his shoulder. Next to him was a short, dark-skinned girl who appeared to be listening to some sort of music player, her headphones in. Then came a brown-haired girl wearing a hoodie-looking shirt, a snowcap, and clutching a large hammer. Finally, another, slightly-taller brunette clad in shorts and a spaghetti-strap top wore a purse on her shoulder, tapping away at her scroll, ignoring the beginning of the fight entirely.

"This is insane!" squeaked Cyril. "Everyone's gonna know we don't belong!"

"Don't be such a pussy, Cyril," replied Pam. "We blend in just fine."

"B-but we're already at least 10 years older than everyone else here! How do they know we even go to Haven?" exclaimed Cyril.

"Duh! We just hacked their system and put our team in it," replied Cheryl.

"When?! How?!" cried Cyril.

"Like as soon as we got here," said Cheryl.

"It was incredibly easy. Their anti-virus and anti-infiltration software is abysmal," said Krieger cheerfully. "Pretty much anyone could do it."

Around the edges of the arena, translucent, hovering screens began to spin roulette-style up near the mid-tiers of seats. They stopped on a green picture of trees, and another less-green picture of grass. The arena began to rumble, and the metallic coverings around the edge of the area began to pull back. Slowly, the other parts of the battlefields slid into place. One side included a fairly dense forest with trees and rocks aplenty, but the other was tall grass, some large boulders, and one or two spindly trees.

"Oho! And for this match, Teams MNIA and PFAT will be fighting on the forest and savannah biomes," said the one announcer.

"This might give PFAT some amount of an advantage, as the denizens from Vacuo might have less experience on anything that isn't desert," said the other announcer.

"We really should have gone with a different name, don't you think?" asked Cyril.

"Actually, I think it's perfect as it is," said Cheryl. "Especially fitting, since we made Pam our leader."

"Y'know, I could just skewer you to a tree with this thing, shrimp," warmed Pam, turning the prongs of her shotgun-pitchfork towards Cheryl.

"Let's save the violence for our _actual_ enemies, okay?" asked Krieger.

"Right. Let's kick some ass!" cheered Pam, holding her weapon up as thunderous applause rolled throughout the stands.

The countdown began. Cyril adjusted his glasses nervously. His glasses felt tingly when he touched them, as if a small electric current was going through them. His heart pounded, and he could already feel sweat dripping down his face.

"Begin!" cried one of the announcers.

"WOOOO!" shrieked Cheryl.

She strummed hard on her guitar, sending waves of energy shooting across the battlefield. The members of Team MNIA scattered. The dark-skinned girl and the brunette with the purse disappeared among the trees of the forest, while the hammer girl and the guy with the tomahawk advanced on Team PFAT. They dodged Cheryl's attacks as they closed the ground. Cyril watched in amazement as the guy's tomahawk changed right before his eyes, becoming a large-barreled pistol. He opened fire on Team PFAT, hitting Pam once and narrowly missing Cyril.

"Retreat!" he cried.

"Way ahead of you!" screamed Krieger, who was already diving head-first into the grass.

"Come get some, ho!" screeched Cheryl as she crossed guitar with the other girl's hammer.

"Don't just stand there, Cyril! Help!" screamed Pam, as she levelled her pitchfork shotgun against her shoulder.

"I-I still don't understand how to use these glasses!" exclaimed Cyril.

The pistol had switched back into a tomahawk as the MNIA guy took a leaping, spinning strike that knocked Cyril off his feet. He barely rolled out of the way as the blade of the tomahawk bit into the metal next to him. Frantic, Cyril pictured an explosion, focused his eyes into his glasses, and a ball of fire exploded in front of him. It broke off the MNIA assault momentarily, but the shockwave knocked Cyril's head back into the metal. Pam groaned.

"Oh, for shit's sake; hold on, Cyril, I got him!" she said. She fired her shotgun-pitchfork, and the shot clipped the MNIA guy. However, it also kicked the prongs of the pitchfork into her shoulder. "OW! Son of a bitch; that hurts!"

"… and it appears that Pam Poovey's weapon has an interesting side-effect of hurting her when she fires it," said one of the announcers.

"Do you suppose this is the result of some sort of semblance tactic, or of poor design choice?" asked the faster-talking announcer.

"Hey! I resent that!" snarled Krieger, picking his head up from inside the grass. A new volley of shots from the MNIA guy made him duck back down with a squeal.

"And Team MNIA's Nikko Topaz shows his skill with his tomahawk/gun combo, keeping Team PFAT scattered!" exclaimed the fast-talking announcer.

"Meanwhile, Maura Lavender's giving Cheryl Tunt a great fight across the arena," chimed in the other one.

Cyril, in the middle of retreating to the grasslands of the savannah, looked across just in time to see Cheryl take a full-force strike across the face from the MNIA brunette's hammer. Cheryl giggled like a love-sick schoolgirl, and then responded by hitting the last string on her weapon. An arc of electricity shot out, striking the hammer girl, sending her flying halfway across the central area.

"Cheryl! Move!" cried Cyril.

The ISIS agents, pursued closely by the MNIA guy, ran into the grasslands. Pam took another pot shot at him, and the guy broke off the assault to check on the hammer girl. Team PFAT took refuge between a fallen log and a tall boulder, where Krieger was fiddling with the buttons on his jacket.

"There," he said, as his entire jacket began to glow different colors. "Finally figured it out. So! What's the plan?"

Cyril looked across to the board that displayed everyone's aura levels. Krieger and the two girls on MNIA were both at full health. Cyril and Pam had taken some damage, as had the guy from MNIA. The MNIA hammer girl and Cheryl had taken the most damage, though they were still easily above ¾ their total aura.

"With Imogen Koral and Aiduss Shade cloaked among the trees, it's going to be very hard for Team PFAT to regroup and find them," said the slower announcer.

"And it looks like Team MNIA is starting to make a move!" exclaimed the other one. "In fact, it looks like Imogen has returned to the battlefield. I guess her phone call is over?"

Cyril peeked past the blades of high grass in front of him. Indeed, the three MNIA fighters were working their way across the arena with care, their eyes and weapons sweeping the area in front of them for movement. Cyril dropped back down, looking at his teammates.

"Krieger, you gotta help me with these glasses. I still can't use them; it just makes explosions in front of my face," he said.

"Wait, aren't you visualizing the area you want the attacks to happen?" asked Krieger.

"NO! You didn't say I had to do that!" exclaimed Cyril.

"… I thought it was obvious?" said Krieger, shrugging.

" _Nothing about this place is obvious!_ " shrieked Cyril.

"So, uh, we should probably come up with a plan because they're about to enter the grasslands," said Pam.

"Here's what I think: Pam should draw their fire, while the rest of us circle around and surprise them," said Krieger. "Then we can fight as one beautiful, well-lubricated, sensual fighting machine."

"Why me?" asked Pam.

"You're the biggest target. Duh," said Cheryl. "Oh. Oops. I'm doing that thing again. Sorry."

Pam slapped her. Up on the board, Cheryl lost another point from her aura.

"Guys! This is serious, we need to—"

"Found you,"

The cold, quiet voice came from his left. She was there, silent as death: the dark-skinned MNIA girl. Cyril didn't have time to even scream before she whipped a knife-on-a-rope at him. The cord, the same kind as her headphones, wrapped around his neck. Cyril was pulled off his feet, dragged away from the others into the grass.

"L-let me go!" exclaimed Cyril.

The sounds of explosions, shots, and screams came from the grass around him. Cyril struggled to gain his feet, but the cord wrapped around his neck was held at just an angle where he couldn't get his footing.

"And as the chaos and carnage unfold behind him, it appears Cyril Figgis of Team PFAT is at the mercy of Team MNIA's Aiduss Shade. It looks like she's going to just drag him to the edge of the map and throw him out!" exclaimed one of the announcers.

The girl glanced up at the announcer's box, an annoyed expression on her face. Cyril could see it straight ahead: the edge of the arena. Indeed, she was dragging him right towards it. Cyril looked for a weak spot, and finally focused his attention on the music player in the girl's hand.

"You better be right about this, Krieger," he muttered.

Summoning all his strength, Cyril focused hard on the music player. He took a deep breath, and focused the feeling of heat in his glasses right to the center of his sight. Another fireball exploded right in front of the girl's hands. The girl dropped the cord holding Cyril, and he was finally able to free himself. He scrambled to his feet, staring at the girl as she examined the hand that had previously been holding the music player. Cyril realized she was just inches from the edge of the arena.

"Ow," she said, as she flexed her fingers. She looked around on the ground for her music player, and then her eyes found Cyril's. Her's widened. "Oh, shit."

Another blast of fire catapulted her off the edge of the arena. She fell to the dirt outside, and a loud buzzer sounded. Cyril looked up at the screen showing their aura. The dark-skinned girl had only lost a fraction of her aura, but a red "X" still covered her picture. Cyril was still pretty high on his aura, but Cheryl and Krieger had lost a lot during the ambush. Pam was actively losing small amounts of aura every few seconds, but she still had far more than anyone else on PFAT. Over on MNIA, only hammer girl had lost almost half her aura; the rest were extra healthy.

"And with that, PFAT gains the advantage!" exclaimed the fast-talking announcer. "Aiduss is out of the arena, and eliminated!"

Cyril turned and ran back into the tall grass. He found Krieger and Cheryl hiding behind a new rock. They were watching as, halfway across the arena, the MNIA guy and the girl with the hammer were slugging the absolute crap out of Pam. Cheryl cackled as one brutal hammer blow knocked her head halfway around.

"What are you doing?" asked Cyril.

"Watching Pam get her ass handed to her," said Cheryl.

"That's horrible! We have to help her!" exclaimed Cyril.

"Actually, we're conducting a quick experiment," said Krieger. "I took one strike from that damn ax, and it knocked a huge chunk of my aura. But, Pam's aura is barely going down with every strike. Watch."

Cyril looked at Pam, who had been driven to her knees and was still taking hits like a champ, and then looked up at the screen displaying their aura levels. Sure enough, despite the massive, non-stop number of hits she was taking, her score was barely dropping. She was still in second, just behind the guy from MNIA. As she rolled to the side to avoid another attack, she caught sight of her teammates watching her.

"Help—me—you—assholes!" snarled Pam in between hits.

"We've got to do something!" said Cyril.

"Ehhhhh… okay, fine. We'll need a distraction while we run in and deal with them," said Krieger.

"I'll take care of it," said Cyril, tapping his glasses. "I've got it under control now."

"Let's do this," said Cheryl, a hungering look in her eyes.

"Just be sure you keep an eye out for the missing girl. I think she went back in the trees, and that phone of hers is basically a weapon in and of itself," said Krieger.

"All right. Ready? Go!" exclaimed Cyril.

He leapt up over the rock as Cheryl and Krieger blasted past him, both shrieking battle cries. The two from MNIA stopped hitting Pam, turning instead to meet the oncoming attacks from Krieger and Cheryl. Cyril began focusing his sight on the MNIA team.

"Suppressing fire!" he shouted, charging in after them.

Fireballs exploded all along the route. His control wasn't great; he accidentally glanced one off Pam and almost singed Cheryl's guitar, but he did manage to score a direct hit on the guy. Firing so many at once made him dizzy, and his head started to ache. It was enough, though; Pam was back on her feet, and between her and Cheryl's Taser, MNIA was retreating for the trees.

"Don't let them get away!" cried Pam.

Cyril felt something hit him in the arm, knocking him spinning. The whole arena was spinning, really. He groaned and held his head as the others screamed and snarled.

"It's her! The one with the phone! She's sniping us from the tree line!" he exclaimed.

"That bitch. Let me at her! I'll—" Pam began.

She didn't finish her sentence. A piercing shriek rang out from the trees, and suddenly the hammer-wielding girl was flying. As her battle cry rang out over the arena, Cyril's head began to hurt even more, and the others cried out in pain, dropping to the ground themselves.

"My ear balls are bleeding!" wailed Cheryl.

"Her semblance! It's a war cry of some sort!" cried Krieger.

Cyril's ears were ringing so bad he couldn't make out the words of the announcers. However, he watched as the girl with the hammer arced through the sky, dropping down right in front of Pam. She swung her weapon around, and knocked her out of the way. She chased down Cheryl, who ran away screaming. More shots hit them as they sat exposed in the central part of the arena.

"This is hopeless! They're too good and too fast for us," said Cyril.

"No. There is a way," said Krieger. "I can take out the hammer girl. You three can handle the other two."

"W-what? Krieger, what are you-?" asked Cyril.

Krieger pressed one of the buttons on his coat. An orange glow began to spread across the threats, until most of the coat was glowing. Even from their distance, Cyril could feel the heat of the jacket. Krieger locked eyes with the hammer girl as Cheryl tried to block her strikes with her guitar. He took a deep breath, and then turned to look at Cyril.

"If anything happens… take care of my wife," he said.

"Your wife? But, wait, how do I even turn her on? You never explained—" Cyril began.

" **Geh zur Hölle, du verdammter Hammer mit Hündin**!" roared Krieger.

He hurtled himself across the battlefield. The MNIA hammer girl was too focused on hitting Cheryl to see him coming. Cyril heard the warning cries from her teammates in the forest, but it was too late. Krieger tackled her to the ground. His coat glowed even brighter for a moment before it they were swallowed up in a massive explosion that let a blackened crater at the edge of the savannah biome. A double buzzer sounded, and Krieger and the hammer girl's pictures showed red X's, and their auras were both all but depleted.

"And with that, Team PFAT loses its first combatant, Algernop, and Team MNIA loses Maura. The score is now 3 to 2, in favor of Team PFAT," said the fast-talking announcer.

"He sacrificed himself for us…" muttered Cyril.

"That was pretty damn stupid," said Pam. "Well, time to nut up and finish this fight."

She hoisted her pitchfork above her head and raced ahead of Cyril, rushing towards the trees. The guy from MNIA stood at the tree line, his tomahawk in pistol mode as he fired round after round at them. The other girl was nowhere to be found, but other shots hit them as they ran. Realizing that running across the central arena section with no cover was actually a really bad idea, Pam and Cyril hid behind another rock at the edge of the forest and savannah. Cheryl took cover behind a fallen tree a few yards from them.

"Now what do we do?" asked Pam.

"W-well, I… uh," muttered Cyril.

"Hey. Cyril," said Cheryl. "Psst. Cyril!"

"I lost sight of the other guy, too," said Pam, peering carefully over her rock.

"Yeah, but I'm more concerned about the girl with her phone weapon," replied Pam.

"Cyril! Hey! Listen!" exclaimed Cheryl.

"Let me think for a second," muttered Cyril. His head was still pounding, and his vision was still dizzy.

"CYRIL!" screamed Cheryl.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" he roared.

"Aim a fireball at the tree over there, right above that big rock!" shouted Cheryl, pointing.

"What? Why?" asked Cyril.

"God DAMN it, Cyril, don't question me, just fire!" shrieked Cheryl.

Across the arena, he saw nothing but the leaves of the trees of the forest biome. It was probably stupid, but at least the forest would be on fire, and they might smoke the girl out. It worked for the one fight he'd seen earlier. Ignoring the excruciating pain throughout his head, he focused one more fiery explosion in the trees. Shreds of branches, leaves, pine needles, and other debris rained outward, and over the sounds of it came the buzzer of elimination.

"And with that, Imogen is out!" cried the fast-talking announcer. "That just leaves Nikko for Team MNIA!"

"Speaking of which, it looks like he's found his prey," said the other one.

"Wha-?" Cyril started.

As he turned, his face met the fist of the MNIA guy. He followed it up with a vicious elbow to the stomach, and an even more powerful cut across the chest by the tomahawk. Cyril, blinded by pain, lay on the ground, looking skyward. The sounds of cheers and roars faded out as he saw the MNIA man stand over him, pointing his tomahawk pistol down at him. The muzzle flashed, and Cyril blacked out.

When he awoke, his vision was blurry, his head ached work than the hangover he'd started the day with, and his entire body ached. The dull roar of the audience rose higher and higher, and he realized Pam was holding him up. He regained his balance and pushed Pam off of him.

"What happened?" asked Cyril.

"That guy from MNIA took you out. Then we wrecked him," said Pam.

"Wait, so… that means…?" asked Cyril, incredulously.

"WE WON! SUCK IT, BLUES!" shouted Cheryl, basking in the glow of the cheering audience in front of them.

"G… great," muttered Cyril. "And Krieger?"

"He's over there," said Pam, pointing.

Krieger lay on a stretcher, being carried away by Atlas medics. He held a defiant hand in the air, displaying a thumbs-up sign. Cyril sighed heavily and sat on the ground. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. The frames still felt warm in his hands. He watched as Cheryl and Pam continued to celebrate the victory, and finally he smiled a little himself.

"I wonder what Archer's gonna say when he sees this?" he wondered aloud.

 **Meanwhile, back in Ozpin's Office**

"Holy shit. They actually won," said Lana.

"Yeah. I'm out $80," said Ray.

"I… must admit, I didn't expect that to go like it did, either," said Glynda. "Though, that does mean they'll be moving on to the next round."

"What would you want us to do, Ozpin? We should disqualify them," said Ironwood.

"And what, draw more attention to them? Great idea, Jimmy. The rules are rules. They have to go on to the next round," said Qrow.

"Mother, this isn't fair!" cried Archer, rounding on Malory. "I want a chance to fight!"

"Ugh, I don't even care," said Malory. "These Pretty Princess Paradise fights have _nothing_ compared to the bloody arenas I fought in when I was compromised in Burma…"

"Lana, Ray, let's go," said Archer, ignoring his mother's rambling. He strode across the office, dragging them by their arms.

"Let go of me, Archer. What are you even doing?" asked Ray.

"We're getting our own team," replied Archer.

"What?!" cried Lana. "No, Archer, we need to start working to find the infiltrators-!"

"And what better way than to be involved in the contest?" argued Archer. "You know they have to be part of it; we get in, we're closer to the show, and we can find out who it is."

"That's impossible! The registration period is over; you can't possibly participate," said Glynda.

" _THEY_ got in somehow! And if Cheryl-Carol-Cristal-Cherlene-freaking-TUNT can figure it out, I sure as hell can!" retorted Archer, slamming the "Down" arrow on the elevator.

"Ozpin, do something!" exclaimed Ironwood, as Archer, Lana, and Ray stepped onto the elevator.

Ozpin stared at them, an expression of mixed amusement and concern playing across his face. Finally, he smiled, raised his mug to them, and said, "Good luck. Try not to embarrass my school too much."


End file.
